


monsters are always hungry, darling

by itallstartedwithdefenestration



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2nd person POV, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Version of Season 10, Blood Drinking, Demon!Dean, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itallstartedwithdefenestration/pseuds/itallstartedwithdefenestration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a demon. Sam thinks he shouldn't be as okay with that as he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	monsters are always hungry, darling

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Richard Siken's _Crush_.
> 
> Originally I was supposed to write this big long s10 divergence fic but it got very far away from me, and then I wrote this on 750words back in October and forgot about it until today. So there we are. 
> 
> Written very much in a stream-of-consciousness format. This is my first time posting something in this style, so I hope you guys like it~

You wake up and Dean is a demon.

This was not the original plan you think but then again you can’t be sure, he hasn’t been telling you much for a long time now, weeks maybe.

He’s hovering over your bed staring down at you his eyes flashing black the blade gripped tight in his hand the mark glowing red under his shirt seared into his skin and you lean up and whisper, “Dean?” and it’s like he doesn’t hear you.

You say, “What did he do to you,” and his eyes flick to green.

He’s trying for normalcy and you think you’re supposed to appreciate it but it’s not the same when you know what’s running in his veins now and you jump up and you run.

He’s calling after you: “Sammy, Sammy,” but you’re not going to turn you’re not going to look back dad taught you both better than to look the monster in its eyes because they’re so often human-shaped and they’ll get you faster that way.

You grab the salt the gun the knife and you draw a line between the two of you in the kitchen where he can’t get to you and he’s standing just on the other side sneering at you.

“Afraid, Sammy?”

“Get the hell out,” you say because this isn’t your brother.

He stands there with his teeth all white and he looks so self-important and he makes a move towards you and lets out a sharp surprised cry when you flick him with the holy water he didn’t even see tucked into your belt like he’s forgotten he taught you that trick when you were ten.

He says: 

“Sam c’mon don’t do this,” 

and you say: 

“Fuck off,” 

and he vanishes like he’s been practicing.

Crowley comes when you summon him this time and you say, “What the fuck did you do to my brother you piece of shit,” and he laughs at you from inside the circle:

“Touchy touchy, language, Winchester,” he says, “remember I can still kill you, just because I like your brother now doesn’t mean I’ve developed any sort of feelings below the belt for you.”

Your fingers tighten around the knife in your pocket and you don’t say anything but you’re glaring at him. “You knew this would happen. You made him get the mark on purpose. You changed him on purpose.”

He says, “No one makes Dean do anything,” and you know it’s true but it doesn’t stop you from cutting a line in his fat stomach anyway just to watch the sparks fly and listen to him hiss in pain.

You sneer: 

“Turn him back now,” 

and he says: 

“Can’t,” 

and you throw a lit match in his face and leave.

You leave for three days.

It’s something you need to do and when you get back Dean is still there and Crowley is still there and no one seems to have noticed you were gone.

The Impala pulls into the driveway and no one comes out of the bunker and you start to question why you even came back it was a stupid idea, coming back—

but you go in because there’s nowhere else to take you anymore and Dean and Crowley are talking in the main room with more demons making the whole room smell like sulfur and you wince and then your mouth starts to water reflexively because of their stupid blood and you cover your nose and try to walk—

“Sam—”

—past.

You pause in the doorway. 

“What.”

He says, “Where the fuck were you.”

“Do you care?”

“No,” he says, and you nod because you weren’t expecting anything else.

“Then I’m not telling you,” and you go in the room they said was yours and you throw the bag on the bed and slump on the floor and think nothing could be worse than this right here today.

Three weeks ago you almost kissed your brother. Maybe that was worse because right after it happened he disappeared and when he came back his hands were stained with Abaddon’s blood and he wasn’t talking to you about it and he was so angry all the time—

(not that he hadn’t been angry before but angrier now like something had been lit inside him and was sparking off getting ready to blow up)

—and when you asked him if he was okay he hit you in the mouth so hard your skin healed over in knots and you have a little scar there now just another wound on your face to remind you that your life is so fucking far from normal.

Three weeks ago you almost kissed Dean and you swear he kissed you back before he shoved you away and walked out.

So maybe—

maybe that was worse.

But Dean has black eyes now eyes like the car obsidian and sinful and evil and you don’t feel safe in his house anymore and your skin is crawling worse than it was and you think you’re going to go insane or kill yourself if something doesn’t stop soon.

He doesn’t talk to you at all after you come back just keeps going places with Crowley and their demon friends like he’s part of a new club. Castiel calls you once finally about a month after Dean turned and asks you how you’re doing and you remember Cas doesn’t even know and you tell him you’re fine and he asks you if you burned Dean’s body and you tell him you did because it’s easier to lie about this than to tell him the truth and you don’t think about how you know that telling Cas would mean ensuring Dean’s death.

One day Dean says to you: 

“Sam,” 

and you say: 

“Yeah,” on reflex because his voice is burned and seared into your bones and you’ll never hear it and not react.

“There’s a case if you want it,” he says and throws the paper in your face and then he’s gone but the paper is still there article circled in blood red marker: three deaths down in Livonia, Louisiana.

You pack up.

You go.

You think about he probably doesn’t want or expect you to come back.

You kill the werewolves and you meet a girl but you come back anyway because she’s pretty and she’s fun but her eyes aren’t green and she doesn’t have his jaw or those rough hands.

The bunker is totally silent for five days when you return and you think Dean’s abandoned you and you wonder if you could live here and die here and no one would know and then Dean comes home and says, “Sam?” totally shocked to see you.

It’s very very hard to ignore him but you manage and he leaves after a while heading down into the recesses of the house taking a shower singing too loud to himself then walking back to where you are wearing nothing but his shorts dripping wet his hair lying flat on his head and you stare and you stare and you think ‘god I want him’—

and maybe he sees it reflected on your face maybe he can’t get that one kiss out of his head either because he sneers at you smirks really and leans in close and starts to say:

“You want this, Sam?” 

and you punch him because he’s not going to defile that for you fuck him that’s one thing he’ll never ever get from you.

He reels back looking stunned blood pouring from his nose in the seconds before it’s healed and then he says, “Sam, _fuck,”_ and lunges.

You fight angry dirty bloody brutal unapologetic on the floor rolling around like you’re sparring in motel rooms for dad again throwing punches kicking clawing at his skin furious because it keeps healing over clean and meanwhile you have to wear the marks of the assault—

you bite his shoulder once and he laughs and then hisses in pain and retaliates by knocking your head into the side of the table and you black out for maybe a minute—

come to and he’s leaning over you breathing hard and when your eyes open he snarls your name leans in and—

he kisses you and this time you let him because you have nowhere else to go.

It’s all anger and hatred nothing gentle about it and you cry the whole time and he mocks you and takes you rough on the floor and your back gets all scraped up with carpet burn and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like it just a little.

After he tucks himself into his jeans, says, “I’m going out,” and doesn’t come back for two weeks.

Crowley’s with him when he returns.

But there’s also a hellhound.

Puppy.

“Gift for you Sam swear it won’t bite,” he says coolly and you say: 

“I can’t see the goddamn thing,” and he smacks you upside the head and runs his tongue over a cut on his thumb and then sticks his tongue into your mouth and Crowley’s watching from behind but you barely notice all you can feel is the wet hot warmth inside your mouth and you’re thinking _more more more more god **dean**_ but all he does is smear the blood around a bit awakening old hunger inside you dark red and hot and then he pulls away and leaves and you can see the hound—

small black furred and you’re scared only until it comes up and licks your hand and then you discern it’s a he and you name him Ozymandias because you know it’ll piss your brother off.

They tell you demons will be living here now and you lie and say you don’t care.

Ozy sleeps at the foot of your bed to protect you and you train him in Latin.

Dean avoids you for weeks until finally one night you wake up and Ozy is snarling so viciously at the door and you grab the shotgun and yell, “Get the fuck away from me,” and it’s just Dean.

He comes in you order Ozy off him and Dean sits on the edge of the bed, says, “Turn on the light Sammy I gotta—” and you turn on the light and he’s sitting there looking so drained so tired running a hand down his face. 

“Sam,” he breathes your name like a prayer as reverent and holy as he isn’t.

“Dean?” you start confused and then he tells you _shh_ and puts his hand on yours and leans in and kisses you and it’s better this time still tastes like demon but without the brutality of the first one you can taste him too just him just Dean and you sigh and lean closer your hand on his jaw, fingers in his hair.

He stops you.

“Sam I swear if you don’t want this—”

“What?”

“—I’ll stop,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll never touch you again only if you want it Sam—whatever you want, always, you know that, okay.”

You don’t want to believe him—

but you do.

He curls around you when you nod with yes just barely brushing past your lips and he’s hot as fire and licks into your mouth slow and his hands slide down into your jeans until you’re trembling and begging and almost crying—

(although for different reasons now than before)

—and he’s not mocking you this time he’s asking if you want it if you’re sure and you’re pushing against him: “Yes yes Jesus Dean just fuck me already you asshole,” and he laughs low dark sound that almost has you coming in your jeans but you hold off until he’s got his fingers in you other hand slowly sliding in the slick at the head of your cock and then into your mouth and he whispers: 

“Yeah Sam yeah just like that,” and you shudder all over and come so hard it hits his throat.

He ruts down against the mattress fast after that and comes a few seconds later collapses next to you and you have to tell Ozy to go to the other side of the room so he won’t join you on the bed.

Dean puts his face on your shoulder mutters, “You an’ me Sammy always gonna be just the two of us I swear,” and you smile and say: 

“Yeah,” 

because it’s the first time in a long time you’ve believed him.

Two days later he comes to you in the kitchen. “If you don’t want this,” he starts and you shrug:

“‘s okay, Dean,” and he nods and cuts his palm and you drink from it and it’s the best thing—

(besides when he’s fucking you)

—and it tastes like sulfur and iron and salt and demon and you shiver all over feeling it reenter your veins and he says, “‘s good?” kinda worried and you laugh with it smeared over your mouth:

“You think maybe I’m some demon blood connoisseur?” and you both laugh at that because you kind of are.

It shifts between you after that it was already shifting before when he’d first fucked you on his fingers but now it’s like it hasn’t been since way back before he went to hell both of you moving around each other constantly in each other’s space you drinking from his veins and him fucking you and sometimes you fuck him—

(really you always fuck him but he gives better blowjobs)

—and there’s banter and he looks happy and you know you do too because he doesn’t watch you so close anymore and sometimes he eats for you and makes faces if you cook anything that isn’t pasta.

The demons that live there like you but you won’t drink from them but they like you anyway better than Crowley and almost as much as Dean and sometimes you see Dean coming up from the basement and you wonder what he’s telling them down there but you don’t ask because you’re too busy having sex on the wall with your brother.

And then one day it’s over.

Not you and Dean never you and Dean he promised you it would never be over between you two but you wake up and Dean’s got his forearm on your mouth hissing: 

“Quiet Sam you gotta be quiet,” 

and you nod all frantic and he moves and you hear something fall and you hear Ozy growl and you tell him to be quiet too and you follow Dean out and he’s standing in the center of the main room surrounded by his demons and Crowley standing across from him.

“So it’s come to this has it?” he says. “You tried to usurp me you thought you could make Sam into your consort your bloody little whore—”

Dean throws Crowley against the wall pins him there with just a look says: 

“I’m king now you fucking dick,” 

and Crowley’s neck cracks and the light inside him bursts out and it’s like when you killed Alastair but it’s worse because Dean’s prolonging it and laughing manic and derisive and you hated Crowley too but— 

“Dean,” you say, and they all turn at once, but Dean hears you—

says, “Sam,” 

and you say, “It’s okay, he’s dead now,” and Dean drops Crowley’s body goes to you kisses you full on the mouth tasting like blood and gravedirt and he says: 

“You want to rule hell with me?” 

and you say, “Yes,” because you have no idea what kind of life it would be here without Dean.

You both go down with the demon army and they bow to your brother and they bow to you and he grins and pulls you onto his throne and sometimes you have sex right there in front of everyone and you love it— 

you love it—

you love it.


End file.
